


rock hard, rock steady

by changgus



Series: walk my way [2]
Category: ONF (Band), Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, ft. seungjoon's little red shorts this time, seungjoon’s slutty red shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24907303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changgus/pseuds/changgus
Summary: Next timewas originally a kind of nebulous concept, a promise they both probably meant but weren’t quite sure how to keep.
Relationships: Lee Hwitaek | Hui/Lee Seungjoon | J-US
Series: walk my way [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802284
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	rock hard, rock steady

**Author's Note:**

> alright..................so a few things one hi yes i am back i did it again i really wasn't planning on it but it just kind of happened this isn't entirely because seungjoon was wearing little red shorts in a recent live but it's not _not_ because of that either? also my last foray into this was not super well received on twitter and i'm not sure if that's because it's rpf, it's crossover fic, or it's porn. if it is the first or the third, i would i guess just ask that you don't read then. everything is clearly tagged i am not hiding what this is about nor am i here to argue about it. if it is the second then i would love to write onf/onf in the future and am definitely open to prompts i just am still getting to know them so this is more comfortable for me to work with. also while this is a direct sequel to my last hui/seungjoon it is not necessary to have read it so chase your bliss.
> 
> ALL of that being said, hope someone enjoys this!

_Next time_ was originally a kind of nebulous concept, a promise they both probably meant but weren’t quite sure how to keep. It’s difficult when schedules never really end, breaks are reserved for the big things like Lunar New Year and Chuseok and maybe a weekend here or there if they are lucky. So while they had both wanted things, said them and _meant_ them, Seungjoon wasn’t actually expecting much on the follow through.

He really should’ve learned to stop having expectations with Hwitaek. The first text comes late at night when Seungjoon is already tucked into bed in his matching pajama set. Tonight’s is yellow and made of thin cotton, short sleeves and bottoms that cut off just above mid-thigh. His used sheet mask is crumpled and quickly getting crusty and gross on his nightstand though the serum is still dewy on his skin.

 **Hwitaekie Hyung** 😘  
are u awake?

Seungjoon smiles at his phone, feeling very much like a pre-teen who’s crush has just called. He supposes it’s fair when he’s had Hwitaek’s dick in his mouth but it doesn’t change the feeling. He picks up their old game, snaps a pic of himself with his eyes closed, looking soft as can be. The first three buttons of his pajama shirt are unbuttoned, showing just enough collarbone and chest. _beauty sleep comes first hyung!!_

He can almost hear the soft way Hwitaek probably laughs at the notification, sitting alone in his studio. He tries to picture it, Hwitaek at his computer, focused. Probably with his tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth, hair messy from how often he rakes his hands through it. When he’s working he narrows in, nothing else matters except for his hands on the keys. Seungjoon wants that attention, wants Hwitaek to narrow in on him.

 **Hwitaekie Hyung** 😘  
does it still work that way when you’re already beautiful?  
sorry that was gross  
i can’t believe i actually said that

It’s embarrassing the way Seungjoon flushes. It was a little gross, but something about it being Hwitaek made it sweet, sincere. 

_ah hyung but what does that mean for you when you never sleep_

**Hwitaekie Hyung** 😘  
ah harsh  
was it that bad?

He can almost see Hwitaek cringe, the line of his shoulders folding in. Is he wearing something comfortable or still dressed from his schedules for the day? In Seungjoon’s mind he’s wearing a soft flannel, old and worn, one he could pop the buttons of with a single finger. Maybe those leggings again, or sweatpants at least. 

_never…  
you must know you’re handsome right?_

He feels a little silly typing it so he follows up quickly.

_so you can’t sleep - looking for a muse or a distraction?_

Seungjoon watches as the text bubble next to Hwitaek’s name appears and disappears at least three times, backspacing on whatever he really wanted to say. When the response finally comes in it’s simply _both?_

Their dorm is quiet at this hour, everyone who’s home is at least in bed and pretending like they’ll sleep anytime soon. Seungjoon slips out of his bedroom quietly and into the bathroom. The edge of the toilet seat doesn’t feel very sexy but his options are limited, so he settles there anyway. He angles his phone up high, capturing both the long line of his neck and the way his shorts ride up on his thighs. His mouth is parted dangerously, just a hint of tongue, just enough. _does this help?_

 **Hwitaekie Hyung** 😘  
yes  
i miss you

 _You can have me_ is what Seungjoon wants to say, but instead he locks his phone and crawls back into bed. Playing hard to get, when he wants to, is incredibly rewarding. Not just with Hwitaek, though he’s excited to reap the benefits there more than maybe any other relationship he’s had. It’s best to keep wanting, wanting him, at least for a little while.

When he wakes up there is exactly one notification, a photo of Hwitaek with a hint of sweat glistening on his chest where his flannel (Seungjoon _knew_ he’d be right.) was unbuttoned down to the middle, bottom lip tucked under his teeth. The picture itself wasn’t overly lewd but the implications of what Hwitaek had done were there. 

He gets another text that night, this time earlier in the evening and before he’s indulged in his nighttime skincare routine. He’s much more willing to play while his pajama sets are on their hangers still and he is not cozy in bed for the night. Hwitaek’s dick is good, great even, but he really does value any time he is allowed to sleep even if it’s only for an hour. It’s hard enough shutting his brain off even when he is desperately tired, eyes aching and bags purple beneath them, without him willingly giving up his limited window.

Hwitaek is in the studio again, as always, as if he is ever anywhere else. Seungjoon can tell from the yellow tint to the photo he receives alone, the blue glow of a computer monitor visible around the edges. He, like always, sends a picture back. This time it’s nothing, just him with his bare face, overlong sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled down over his hands.

Across the table Hyojin is picking at a paper cup of ramyeon mindlessly, picking the noodles up with his chopsticks and then dropping them back into the broth without ever making it to his mouth while he scrolls through his own phone. He has long gotten used to Seungjoon’s behavior, though he never misses an opportunity to make fun of him for it.

 **Hwitaekie Hyung** 😘  
i’m taking a beak  
*break  
you should come see me

Seungjoon stands from the table fast, knocking into it, which breaks Hyojin out of his routine. “I think I’m going out.”

“Like that?” Hyojin scans him up and down with his chopsticks, accusatory. He points them at Seungjoon’s legs in particular where the hems of his bright red shorts barely clear the end of his sweatshirt. These are usually his home shorts, or at most his practice shorts. Seungjoon is proud of his legs and maybe a little bit of a slut but the red shorts still are not just for anyone to see. Hyojin, unfortunately, knows this.

“Yes?”

“In your fuck-me shorts?” He settles his chopsticks across the top of the ramyeon container so he can fold his arms across his chest.

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Hyojin shrugs, returning to his dinner and actually shoving a bite into his mouth finally. He speaks with his cheeks full. “Go get ‘em, tiger. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t _do_ anything.”

“Maybe so. Hey, do you think if I borrowed the shorts I’d get as much dick as you do?”

Seungjoon leans across the table to smack his head. “The only thing stopping you from getting the dick you want is you, hyung.”

“Wow, that was poetic. Should we put that on our next album?” He looks at Seungjoon with wide eyes, glittering like this is a great idea, truly. “It could even be the title track. We can all wear-”

Seungjoon smacks him again, but with no bite to it. 

He grabs a mask and a hat on his way out, less afraid of getting recognized and more afraid of getting caught. The subway from Mangwon to Seongsu takes about thirty minutes, but Line 2 will still be packed at this hour once he transfers and he’s not about to risk anything. He spends much of the ride nervously flipping his Taemin transit card between his fingers, like maybe the tiny laminated version will have something to say to him. 

Unfortunately, transit card Taemin does not offer any words of wisdom, at least none that Seungjoon cannot intuit from the playlist he’s been blasting into his own ears for the entire journey. It’s easier when he feels like he’s in control, but showing up to Hwitaek’s company building on a Thursday night, he’s not sure what to expect. 

He has a vague awareness that this _is_ that nebulous Next Time that they’d talked about, but he doesn’t know what that _means_.

When he exits Seongsu station, the late spring air is chilly against his legs. Still early enough in the year that he really should’ve thought this through more but late enough that he’s not uncomfortable, just maybe hyperaware. He texts Hwitaek to let him know he’s walking over and tries to relax himself.

Hwitaek meets him at the company entrance, away from the prying eyes of fans who might be waiting inside the cafe, or at least away from most of them. Seungjoon is unrecognizable with his face covered anyway and as far as anyone is concerned he could be another producer coming in or some nameless staff who forgot his badge that day. Probably too tall and formed to be mistaken for a trainee, but he’d love to see the rumors. 

For some reason he’s expecting Hwitaek’s studio to be larger. It’s barely bigger than a closet, with just enough room for a couch tucked against the side wall, the desk where Hwitaek spends ninety percent of his time, and a keyboard. There’s some little touches that indicate this one specifically belongs to Hwitaek, a football jersey framed, pictures of his members, but it’s largely empty too.

Seungjoon pulls off his mask and cap as soon as Hwitaek locks the door behind him. He looks around for a minute and then drapes himself dramatically over the red and black gaming chair in front of the desk, wiggling his eyebrows. “So this is where the magic happens, huh?”

“I guess you could say that.” Hwitaek is shy again, laughing under his breath. Whatever boldness had led him to inviting Seungjoon over had clearly dissipated when faced with him in person. Seungjoon decides to take it easy on him and walks over to run his hands down his chest.

Today Hwitaek is wearing a t-shirt, one that looks like it’s probably not even his judging from how broad it is in the shoulders, and Seungjoon is just a little disappointed. A part of him had been excited about Hwitaek’s reaction when he dragged his finger down his chest slowly and popped the buttons one by one. 

Hwitaek’s hands settle on his hips and for a moment Seungjoon has a vision of them dancing, of sliding his arms around Hwitaek’s neck and swaying together to something smooth, maybe jazzy. It feels too intimate suddenly so Seungjoon does the only thing he can think to do - he leans in and kisses him. 

Hwitaek responds with enthusiasm, licking into Seungjoon’s mouth and holding tighter to his hips like an anchor. Seungjoon adjusts his head so he can kiss him deeper. He wants to feel the pressure of Hwitaek on his mouth even when they pull apart, wants to carry the imprint of it. Hwitaek licks along his bottom lip and he shivers.

He hikes one of Seungjoon’s legs up against his hip so they can rock against each other, slides his hand right up the leg of Seungjoon’s shorts. 

This is what Seungjoon is looking for, the harsh press of Hwitaek’s fingers into the back of his thigh, the pressure between his legs as he rolls his hips against him, the way his lips sting when Hwitaek pulls one into his mouth with his teeth. 

Seungjoon drags his dick against Hwitaek’s thigh, the thin material of his shorts just adding to the friction. He can feel Hwitaek straining too, even through his jeans.

“Put me on the couch.” He breathes, they’re still so close when he says it they might as well still be kissing, lips brushing over every word. Hwitaek nods, eyes closing, and then guides him back to spread his legs on the couch. 

If Seungjoon has learned one thing, it’s that for all of Hwitaek’s skill as a leader, he is also very good at following instructions. Just the right touch and Hwitaek will listen. 

Hwitaek settles between his legs on the floor and laves the bare skin of his thighs exposed by his shorts. His lips are bruising and Seungjoon mentally formulates a bucket list of all the things he’d like those lips to do. 

He pushes Seungjoon’s shorts even further up his thighs and sucks a kiss right into the crux of his groin, just like Seungjoon had done for him the first time. 

“I want you to-“ Seungjoon reaches down to cup Hwitaek’s face, make him listen. “I want you to eat me out.”

He presses his lips to the inside of Seungjoon’s thigh one last time, gentle, and then reaches up under the hem of his way-too-big sweatshirt to tug down his shorts and briefs in one go. Seungjoon feels exposed, hooking his legs over Hwitaek’s shoulders and letting him lift his ass with his hands for better access. It doesn’t matter though when Hwitaek licks into him. 

His movements are tentative at first and Seungjoon wonders if he’s done this before, with who, if anyone. If someone had done this for him, how Hwitaek liked it. Did he also love the way someone gripped his thighs as they drove their tongue into him? It didn’t matter either way but Seungjoon was just excited to _learn_.

Hwitaek spits, gets him nice and wet, before adding in a finger. He waits for Seungjoon to adjust, pushing in and out, nice and slow, before adding the second. This, Seungjoon can tell, Hwitaek has definitely done before. He finds his prostate easily and the feeling combined with the visual of Hwitaek working him open has tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. 

Seungjoon licks his hand before reaching down to loosely fist his own cock while Hwitaek works. He twists his palm around the tip before dragging down the shaft and back up, picking up speed in time with Hwitaek’s fingers and tongue. 

“Can I fuck you?” Hwitaek pulls back to ask and his chin is slick with spit when he does.

“Please, _god_ , I thought you’d never ask.”

Hwitaek looks a little sheepish when he crawls over to fish through one of the drawers in his desk and produces a small plastic bottle of lube. It looked like it was probably a free sample from somewhere, but still half used. Hwitaek crawls back over before popping the cap and pouring it over his fingers. 

He takes the time to warm it up, and it’s those little considerate things that make Seungjoon’s stomach contract before Hwitaek slips a third finger into him. 

If Hwitaek is not inside of him soon he might come just like this. Hwitaek’s fingers are small but deft, curling inside of him, and Hwitaek is making the same concentrated face as when he’s working on music. Having Hwitaek’s attention like this, Seungjoon groans throwing his arm over his mouth to try to swallow it. 

Hwitaek presses another long kiss to the sensitive skin in the crease of his thigh. 

“I want to hear you.” He says, breath hot and tingling.

“Fuck, please, just-“ Seungjoon reaches blindly for Hwitaek, anywhere his hand can find purchase. He ends up pulling Hwitaek up by the shoulder and Hwitaek laughs breathlessly.

“Alright, alright.” 

Seungjoon adjusts himself so he’s laying fully on the couch while he watches Hwitaek undress. His fingers are fumbling trying to take off his clothes, trying too hard to be quick.

He watches him hungrily as he steps out of his jeans and then his underwear. Hwitaek’s cock is just as good as he remembered, thick and full between his legs. 

Seungjoon doesn’t think Hwitaek even realizes how perfect it is, how just the sight of it is enough to make his mouth water.

Once he’s fully undressed, he settles himself back between Seungjoon’s legs. He coats himself liberally with what’s left in the tiny bottle before lining himself up. 

“Are you ready?”

Seungjoon nods enthusiastically. 

The stretch as Hwitaek pushes in is incredible, burning dully and filling every one of Seungjoon’s senses. He pushes both of Seungjoon’s legs forward with the weight of his shoulders just to get the angle right and presses a kiss to the side of his knee as he does. It’s so tender and unexpected that Seungjoon almost comes on the spot.

“Still good?” Hwitaek asks again. 

“ _Please_.”

Hwitaek fucks into him slow and dirty, dragging his mouth along his thighs as he goes. Seungjoon doesn’t think he’s ever been this full before, it’s overwhelming. Everything is just the rhythm of Hwitaek pounding into him, the smack of his hips against his ass, the way the cold air lingers on his thighs everywhere Hwitaek’s mouth has been. 

Seungjoon can’t control the soft little noises tumbling from his mouth but Hwitaek drinks them up and besides any sound Seungjoon makes, Hwitaek is louder. 

The closer Hwitaek gets, the faster and messier his hips move. Seungjoon remembers this feeling from last time, Hwitaek’s hips stuttering with his cock heavy on his tongue. He wants to hear the way Hwitaek sounds when he orgasms again, wants to watch his face this time. 

Seungjoon locks his ankles around Hwitaek’s back, pushing him deeper. It only takes a few more thrusts before Hwitaek is coming in hot spurts inside of him, his breath stuttering out in a series of high pitched whines. 

He rolls his hips slowly, riding it out before he pulls out carefully. 

“Let me take care of you?” And it’s not really a question because in this moment Seungjoon thinks he would let Hwitaek do anything. 

What Hwitaek does do is push Seungjoon’s sweatshirt out of the way just enough to take the head of his cock into his mouth. It’s incredible how easily he takes him, plush lips wrapped around his shaft near to the base. He pulls up slow and wet, then back down, bobbing his head like he was made for this. 

Seungjoon doesn’t last long, already over stimulated and fucked out from everything else. He barely has time to warn Hwitaek before he comes in his mouth, feeling at once all too sensitive and satiated. 

Hwitaek pulls off and seals a last kiss into Seungjoon’s hipbone before settling back on his heels. 

He looks like an absolute mess, hair fucked from Seungjoon’s hands and mouth wet and bitten. Everyday Seungjoon learns another thing he loves about Hwitaek. 

His phone buzzes twice, three times from where it’s been discarded on Hwitaek’s desk and he knows without even looking at the notifications that it’s time for him to head back lest the dorm be on fire when he returns. 

Seungjoon doesn’t really want to have the _what are we_ conversation, not now when he’s sure Hwitaek’s mouth still tastes like his come and when his legs feel like they’re filled with molten lava, just liquid beneath him. He does want to keep doing this though, so he sits up to face him, grabs his head in his hands, and presses his lips to his forehead. 

“What was that for?” Hwitaek’s eyes are soft, searching.

“I just like you.”

“Really?” He looks satisfied, lips pulling at the corner.

“Mhm.” Seungjoon drags his fingers along Hwitaek’s face, tries to piece his bangs back into place. 

“I just like you too.” It’s quiet but Seungjoon thinks he’d like to hear him say it again and again and maybe some other things too. 

Hwitaek leans back against the couch and watches as Seungjoon redresses.

“And I like these.” Hwitaek says, eyes crinkling at the corners as Seungjoon slides his shorts back on, hiking them up to sit high on his waist like he likes. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, the color suits you.”

“Maybe I’ll wear them next time too,” Seungjoon pulls his sweatshirt back down so it hangs properly, skimming the edge of the shorts so they just peek out, a sliver of red across his thighs. “If you’re good.”

Hwitaek does a little salute with his fingers. “Aye aye, captain.”

On the ride home, Seungjoon feels like he’s carrying a secret tucked behind his ribcage, maybe somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. He looks again to his Taemin transit card, but the black and white picture remains silent. He’ll have to ask Hyojin about it when he gets home instead. 

As he’s leaving Mangwon station, air cold again against his legs as he takes the familiar walk home, his phone buzzes again with a notification. He doesn’t have to look to know it’s from Hwitaek. And he thinks maybe the warmth he feels is the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gayjinho) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/gayjinho)


End file.
